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Some might find this blog entry on prunes--yes prunes--enjoyable. It even comes with a recipe.

An excerpt:

"Most outcast fruit, the prune! [Virginia] Woolf [in A Room of One's Own] assaults it with a scorn borrowed from the boniest schoolmistress. The fricatives and plosives of her derision – the same mouth shapes as spitting out pits – are saved for this fruit, as an emblem of the dried and withered place of women in education. Girls are fed on dreary food and drearier thought, both provided by women – governesses and headmistresses – who themselves are overlooked, overcooked, overripe – spinsters, maiden aunts. They are Prunes. Educated women are cut off – cut themselves off! - from the succulent, the affable, the luminous dining table. Virginia Woolf is right: privilege smells, feels and tastes different to privation. She is right, too, that our very being is formed from within our gut: “One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.” But is she right that “The lamp in the spine does not light on beef and prunes?”"

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i appreciate that very much!

but for some reason it brought this to mind: :innocent:

"Beautiful soup, so rich and green,

Waiting in a hot tureen!

Who for such dainties would not stoop?

Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!

Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!

Beau--ootiful Soo--oop! Beau--ootiful Soo--oop!

Soo--oop of the e--e--evening, Beautiful, beautiful Soup"

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